Saturday, December 22, 2007

Fleshbot and Holed Up

This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot offers a little something for everyone, as Always Aroused Girl and I team up to offer you a grab bag selection of holiday hotness. No need to get us anything; your unfailing admiration is gift enough. (Although they do say erotic self-portraits make nice stocking stuffers.)

Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me touching skin, polishing nails and managing to breath.

Eden takes a turn on top and teaches me to breathe through the pain. I listened, knowing that she was also teaching me something about herself.

Bridget has really been underfoot these days, making an utter nuisance of herself in her determination that my children have a fine holiday. You’ll find her musing about me now and then as she ponders things that whir and people who warble. I am but a bit player in the story of how she introduced my third-grader to the joys of such girlish pleasures as manis, pedis, and, uh, things that whir.

If you are stalking me, do try to do a thorough job of it. Tom Paine ponders living life as I do, or in an approximate manner suitable to the interests of himself and his wife. Along the way, he conjectures reasons why women may be attracted to me. Part of the explanation, he reasons, may be that most of these women are very young and therefore guided by irrational hormones.

I hear this now and then. While I appreciate Brother Tom’s overall sentiments, I must take issue to this assertion on two grounds. First, it is factually inaccurate. If you knit together my sex partners by blogs alone—and it would be foolish to assume that the blogs offer anything like a complete assessment—then you find that many, if not most, of the women who have written about me are over thirty. I did write a series of posts last year about meeting younger women, and another series about first dates. A superficial reading might understandably lead you to surmise that my sex life is primarily driven by one-night stands with young women. This is not the case.

My second objection is less about facts than perceptions. Why assume that younger people are incapable of making sound judgments in choosing sexual partners? It is dismissive and patronizing for older people to assert that younger adults are denied some special agency concerning sex that comes only with advanced maturity. The younger women in the blogs linked here have been meeting me for months and even years, so they are certainly engaged in relationships guided by factors other than mere hormonal spikes.

Here’s a related sidebar. I was recently contacted by a woman who wrote that she was intrigued by the possibility of meeting me, and regretted that I was attracted only to younger women. I denied any such bias, and we met. When she subsequently blogged about our liaisons, one commenter warned that I was “using” her for sex. My new friend laughed. “I contacted you for sex,” she wrote. “We met at your place, and I wrote that I enjoyed it. So in what way are you using me? If anything, I’m using you.”

That’s part of the blogging game. Many readers are guided not by what they read, but by what they already believed prior to reading it. And if reason must be found as to why anyone is attracted to me—or why anyone is attracted to anyone, really—then I would hope that it be based on valuing people’s reported experiences rather than relying on forgone assumptions about gender, age, appearances, or what have you.

If you ask me, I’m popular because I put out. Being a good time worked for me in high school, and it’s still working today.

And boy, do I work, as I thought while cleaning house last week in preparation for the seasonal onslaught of family.

Now that the holidays are upon us, I am simultaneously hunkered down and on the lam. The season began for me with the arrival this week of my ex father-in-law, who planned to stay at my place for a few days before heading off to the eXmas that excluded me. We were with the children two nights and left alone for a third. Rather than endure an awkward night of conversation about my ex and my life (to be potentially reported to my ex’s family in my absence), I elected to pack up my laptop and hole up elsewhere.

I am presently one hour north of the city in snowy New England, encamped in a hotel with a king-sized bed. The refrigerator is stocked with water. My desk is decorated with a bottle of twenty-year old bourbon. Every now and then, a local married woman tells her family that she is off to do some last minute shopping; instead, her car brings her to me for sex and conversation.

Outside, my own car is filled with contraband.

After my ex-father-law leaves, I will enjoy the eye of the storm before the return of my children, followed once more by their grandfather. After he leaves, my eldest daughter and son-in-law will be up for her annual New Year’s Eve in New York. I hear she is bringing a couple of friends.

With all this traffic, I wanted to be sure my apartment was scrubbed clean of dirt, grime and smut. I put my back into mopping. I scoured tiles and dusted shelves. Laundry was washed and put away. My supply of sheets and towels was replenished to its maximum capacity.

But what to do with the smut? Naturally, as a parent, I keep the accoutrements of my sex life very discreet. My computer is locked down by multiple passwords, with special accounts created for each child and visitors. The physical objects are a bit trickier to hide. Flogs, canes, ropes, whips and paddles are tucked on hooks inside a closet. Nearby is a sizable collection of panties and a sizable pair of fuck-me heels. Condoms are convenient in a bedside drawer, with several gross of extras stored in the top of a closet. (And no, they don’t expire unused.) A bottle of lube shares the drawer, with its many companions tucked into a hidden cabinet. In this cabinet, one would also find boxes of sex toys, poppers, latex gloves and shelves of porn in VHS and DVD, gay and straight, with a substantial collection from Joe Gallant’s Black Mirror Productions, including my favored Bong Water Butt Babes, which features an ingenious bong-cum-butt-plug that makes good use of enemas.

Not wanting to leave anything to chance discovery, I decided that for the duration of the holidays, all evidence of perversion should be relegated to off-site storage. My car’s trunk offered a convenient place to stow it all.

I had my servant girl Eden pack away the porn as I put away the implements of sadism. She’s not allowed to wear clothes in my home, and so it was distracting to pack canes as she climbed on a stepladder to reach the highest shelves, her ass at eye level and striking distance.

Avah helped me to load the trunk. It took a few trips to get everything. I was surprised to find that the trunk was completely filled. I mean, I’m not particularly acquisitive about sex products—mostly, you know, I just make do with what the good Lord gave me—but there it was, a trunk full of evidence that daddy is, well, “daddy.”

I marveled at this accumulation to Bridget. She offered to babysit the porn so my trunk would not be so burdened. I hope she finds room for it, given her own accumulation of fucking machines.

More to come, but I need to run. Room service is knocking.


Anonymous said...

Yikes! Tom Paine hit a bit of a nerve there...I thought I'd try to help you out and let folks know that I fit into the 40+ group that enjoys fucking you on (I wish) a regular basis. I just don't choose to write about it.

Happy New Year.

Bridget said...

And ooooh, maybe, just maybe you'll get the porn back when Connor and I are done with it.

Which, er, may not be for a long time, you know, if ever.

By the way, *really* astute readers of your blog may notice that what makes you put out regularly is the promise of a nice hotel, room service and a really really great bed.

Slut. Ah yes, that's why I love you.

Now, take your mojo outta bed and order more room service.

Bridget said...

Oh, and P.S.....

*climbing on soapbox, w/some difficulty, in my advanced age*

I do think it's odd that some readers may think that all you do is boink young'uns. Says this (somewhat) old'un.

As one who has probably picked apart your appeal with a tweezer out of curiosity -- and usually with you patiently listening -- I am usually amused when folks put down your "success" to just the physical stuff you do.

I've always dug you because you are all those things most women hope to have in a lover -- mindblowing sex, a good listener, someone who likes to talk about some of the same stuff I do, observant about my likes and dislikes, a consideration of my feelings in a way most don't do, and an acceptance of who I was and what I looked like -- with a genuine appreciation of all of me.

And gee, for one who's no longer actively boinking you, you're still all those other things as well, which is why we're friends.

Really, if one took a moment to comb through the archives, careful reading would show that your lovers have come in all ages, genders, races, shapes and sizes.

But what's always been nice to me is that it's not an overriding concern with what someone looks like -- it's more of what type of connection you form with them that determines usually whether they're around for the long run.

I've always thought that a lot of the traits that make you a great dad carry over to how you treat the people you come into contact with -- off blog or through it.

That, and the reserves of enormous patience to put up with episodic wigginess from folks likely built up after years of Lucy.

In any event, it's a convergence of things that I think still attracts lovers to you, and what's more interesting to me is how you *keep* many of them as friends even when you've stopped having sex with them.

Though for the record, yeah, you putting out helps. ;)

*climbing down off soapbox now, with Connor's help*

MonMouth said...

I'm shocked, Jefferson. Women using you for sex? You're being taken advantage of - shamefully. I'm appalled that there actually exist women who think nothing of trashing the virtue of guileless men who innocently show them a good time.

And who is this horny hussy who pretends to be babysitting your porn? Did she give you an itemized receipt when you handed over the goods? If not, I sincerely doubt that you'll ever see your property again.

I think this is scandalous. A clear instance of a vulnerable individual being taken advantage of by opportunistic perverts.

If any of those horny buggers pass through London, let me know and I'll give them a right old seeing to on your behalf.

yours in solidarity,


desire said...

glad to hear you enjoyed your solstice without the company of your ex-FIL. don't let the ageist haters get you down.

tilda said...

As a 30-something, I have to give a shout-out to the 20-somethings. If I had half the self-awareness and moxie you guys have, I would have had a lot more fun (and probably a lot more self-confidence) in college. I tip my hat.

Lynsey said...

I demand a steel-cage death match!

Wow. That would be so hot.

Trumpet Guy said...

Having met and um..enjoyed Jefferson, I would add that perhaps the appeal lies in the fact that he is very charming, kind, and pleasant. Last I heard, those attributes never hurt in the attraction department.

Mitzi said...

Jefferson banished me from his life on the my 27th birthday. He shoved me out the door and hissed "Get the fuck out Grandma, and never show me that ancient fucking pussy again!"

He threw me into the hall with my pants around my ankels, and tears streaming down my rapidly aging face.

I heard him laughing as he locked the door from inside the apartment.

Anonymous said...

Heavens! What a fan club, Jefferson! Might I join?


Tom Paine said...

Well, I'm impressed that you felt the need to take me to task twice on two different blogs! Talk about touching a nerve....

I'm also amused at the circling of the wagons by your harem, as if I were maligning you or them. Folks, I admire Jefferson's success, and I'm sure y'all know your own minds. I never implied otherwise.

But DDD, darling, you make my case for me when you write "there are still some of us out there in our 40's who still have raging hormones and did not sexually experiment in our 20's."

The decline of hormones that's in store for you, DDD, is real. That you're answering that call now is excellent, and I'm sure that Brother Jefferson delivers or he wouldn't have such an enviable track record. As the old saying goes, "I've been where you are, but you've never been where I am." Or as they used to say, "use it before you lose it."

As to my misperception of the age of your harem, Brother Jefferson, it's from your own scorecard published on this very blog. I apologize for not making a detailed study of your archives to come up with the correct demographic. But at least I do my own talking, even if I occasionally put my foot in my mouth, LOL.

JohnsGirl2 said...

oooh I love to see two little boys fighting in the mud!!

Viviane said...

When I think of sanctuary, I see Charles Laughton as Quasimodo (in the Hunchback of Notre Dame), piteously crying "sancthewary!" You're welcome.

You know damn well how old I am.

There are perverts and there are perverts of their own imagining.

Mon darling, we may just have to fly you over to administer those seeing tos.

Greg & Sheryl said...

We never know that sex blogging could actually get you laid. We must not be doing it right!

Bianca said...

Maybe people think that you only fuck young'uns because your first post on here was about a girl who was what, no more than 18?

Yes, you have partners your age but it does seem like you fuck a lot of us young college students. Heck, you were twice my age when I first met you which was creepy but intriguing at the same time.

I'm sure that if you look through all of your posts you couldn't blame someone for thinking that you only fuck people who are at least 15 years your junior.

Zoe said...

As one of your few remaining readers who hasn't fucked you, my theory on the appeal of Jefferson is that you're super straightforward both about what you want and what you can give. You're comfortable with a wide range of sexual practices. It sounds like lately women have been ordering items off of your sexual menu for the cost of a bottle of bourbon.

You offer a comfortable middle ground...not the pressure of a relationship, nor a conventional nsa experience, in which many women don't expect to get off.

Lily said...

In re: "I'm popular because I put out." Well, as I said (excuse the shameless self promotion, but lookee here:,) I think a great part of your popularity is the way you seem to find every woman (and most of the men) you bed exceptionally attractive. That sort of admiration, not to mention appreciation, is pretty hot.

For statistical purposes, I'll add that I was not much of a slut until I was almost 33. DDD has a good point about the ubiquitiousness of college-age bloggers, too.